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BY 

P.L.MCKINNIE 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
TP %-«-** — 

Chap.--- Copyright Ko 

Siieli--,-- 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



Give a Lift to Mortals 



AND OTHER POEMS 



BY 

DR. P. Ef McKINNIE 



ILLUSTRATIONS 
BY 

Florence Johnson and Sara Crosby. 



CHICAGO 
Press of Shea Smith & Co. 
1896 



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Of 



Copyrighted, 1896 

By P. L. MCKINNIE, 
Chicago, III. 



CONTENTS. 



, Page 

Who Duty Parries Not ------ 9 

God Is Accounting - - - - - - 11 

Patriots of the Emerald Isle - - - - 15 

Two Encampments - - - - - - \7 

For the Blue and the Gray 19 

One Hundred Years ------ 21 

Love and the Rose Leaves ------ 22 

The Sheep on the Coast - 24 

My Mother -------- 26 

Celestia ----... 27 

The Boon of a Better Life ----- 28 

Give a Lift to Mortals - 3o 

Nature's Voices ....... }2 

Sherman and Porter Memorial - 34 

Our Country and Flag ------ 36 

Forgive, Forget ------- 37 

Violets and Blue Eyes ------ 38 

Only a Life ------- 39 

The Assays There Will All Be True - - - - 40 

A Birthday Greeting ------ 46 

God Ciphers Me an' You ------ 49 

The Temperance Millenium - - - - - 51 



Page 

Cripple Tim and the Charity Ball .... 53 

Love's Fetters ------- 56 

America, Homeland - - - - - - - 57 

Palmer Lake, Colorado - - - - - 58 

Fidelity - - - - - - - 59 

Evangeline ------- 60 

God of Gold ------- 61 

Love's Despair ------- 63 

The Soldier ------- 63 



note. 

The poems in this book except "For the Blue and the Gray" 
and "Blue Eyes and Violets" are selected from a volume of poems 
previously published by the same author, entitled "From Tide to 
Timber-Line. 



*■ 



-* 



TO MY WIFE. 



-* 



When you give a lift to mortals who are walkin' in the shadder 
Of a sorrow, an' you lighten it an' make their hearts beat gladder 
You will be one round up higher, up higher on God's ladder, 
Toward his heaven every day. 

J bid, page ji . 



GIVE A LIFT TO MORTALS 




AND 



1/ OTHER POEMS. 



b\ i 



w 



WHO DUTY PARRIES NOT. 

'HO is pure in heart, and duty parries not, 
Nor ever seeks an easy path 
By compromise with evil, hath 
A destiny of conflict and a warrior's lot. 
Victory shall come to him 
Only on the death within 

His heart of selfishness and lust, and greed 
Of gain. Evil tempts with gold, 
Or preferment, or threatens bold. 

So should his courage have the greater meed 
Of truth: that armored mail 
The shafts of Evil shall assail 



10 



WHO DUTY PARRIES NOT. 



In vain, and broken lie at feet of Victory won, 

With Right, and purity of heart 

And purpose, shall courage ne'er depart; 
But, putting on the buckler day by day, all duty done, 

The Victor's crown is won at last, 

Worthily, when the contest's past, 

To be worn as jewels that shall be a crown 

Of truth and courage pure, 

With noble aspirations to endure 
Unto the end. Then may he lay all burdens down, 

And in sweet silence, peaceful rest 

With Him who doeth all things best. 





GOD IS ACCOUNTING. 

Respectfully inscribed to the Sweaters, and to 

the Business Men who make such 

a system possible 

FORTY cents — Forty cents — 
She stitches and sews. 
Forty cents — Forty cents — 
The winter wind blows ! 
Forty cents for each dozen, 
And God only knows 
The child's chalice of woes. 

Hands weary and red, 
Cheeks pale as the dead; 

She is fourteen years old — 
Forty cents — She's a working" girl, — 
Let her brain weary whirl, — 
Slave to a miser churl 

Hoarding up gold. 



11 






:,■ 



; 




She stitches and sews, 
Life ebbs, never flows. 



GOD IS ACCOUNTING. i'3 

Want plowing" furrows, 
Disease making burrows, 

She is fourteen years old. 
Heed not her imploring look, 
Fear not the warning book ; 
God's poor — and his wrath to brook — 

Grind to get gold. 

She stitches and sews, 
Life ebbs, never flows. 

Only fourteen years old, — 
While on her face you read 
Hope's death, and bitter need. 
Misery for her decreed 

Adds to your gold. 

She is fourteen years old. 
Grind her down till sore want, 
Insatiate and gaunt, 
Drives her to the haunt 

Of vices untold. 
Then, Christians, pray for her, 
While fiends lay snare for her, 
None then to care for her, 

All hoarding gold. 

Forty cents — Does she sweat ? 

Canst thou, Christ, forget ? 
Forty cents — Where are the preachers ? 
She is one of Christ's creatures, 
She is wearing his features — 



14 GOD IS ACCOUNTING. 

" Fourteen years old." 
They forget when he turned 
The money tables and spurned 
The sweaters who yearned 

To hoard up more gold. 

Forty cents for the working girl ; 
Let her brain fevered whirl — 

Lips growing white almost as the snows.- 

She is only fourteen, and dying, but sews;— 
Sews where disease and vice ever dwell ; 
Sews in a den that's the threshold of hell, 

That you may gain gold. 

Though your soul may be sold. 

Forty cents — she is counting — 

Forty cents — God's accounting. 
Ah, here, here for her is fortune at last. 
Her little heart throbbing, yet faster, more fast, 

Forty cents — she is counting — 
"Five pennies for fare and five for bread, 

And five for — " " Forty cents, forty cents." 
Then the notice was read. 
The sewing girl's dead, 

And God is accounting. 




PATRIOTS OF THE EMERALD ISLE. 

OH, when, lovely isle of speech and of song, 
Oh, when shall be surcease of thy bitter wrong? 
Thou hast drained to the dregs War's chalice of woes, 
Of Famine, of Slaughter, and sore feudal blows; 
And misrule and greed are joined hand in hand 
To decry and despoil thy once happy land, 
To poverty-shakle thy warm-hearty race, 
And evil and law join hands in the chase. 

For Hungary bleeding, for Greece when she cried, 

Thy people shed blood, thy sons for them died. 

Where Freedom has struggled through hundreds of years, 

No land and no tongue plead in vein to thy ears. 

From the fields of the Boyne, through the zones of the world, 

To her throne, Appomattox, has Freedom unfurled 

Her banner; but there he has rallied and died 

For the boon that his own native isle is denied. 



15 



16 PATRIOTS OF THE EMERALD ISLE. 

Oh, bring then, the shamrock, and cover his grave, 

From the green hills of Erin, the land he would save; 

While his soul with brave Emmet's inspiration will bring 

So long as the bells of loved Shannon shall ring. 

His voice for his native land cannot be hushed. 

The truth to the earth can never be crushed; 

From the grave he shall speak, with unpalsied tongue, 

And the wrongs of the Emerald Isle shall be sung 

In the name of her martyrs, till at last, on her crest, 

In a halo of peace, shall her liberty rest. 




?%s*M^^ 




TWO ENCAMPMENTS. 

CTJLL hail! comrades, noble G. A. R., 

j\. From clime to clime, from near and far, 

From pole to pole, and Orient come, 

With banner and fife, and stirring drum, 

With patriot heart-beat, all fall in. 

Let the quick pulse throb at reveille's din, 

And the broad Sierra's echo clear 

The Grand Encampment's roll-call " here." 



To comradship a tribute yield, 
So dearly bought on^battlefield, 
In a pilgrimage to the golden gate, 
Where story of field and camp await. — 
In the regal splendor of Pullman cars — 
For they "tramp" no more, the G. A. R.'s — 
High over the summit's rocky divide, 
Where the eagle soars, to safely glide ; 

From the Royal Gorge to timber-line, 

Through Castle Gate without countersign ; 

On the Marshall Pass the neighboring stars 

Will greet in Review the G. A. R.'s; 

And the sentinel peaks that " taps " ne'er know, 

Will raise their hoary caps of snow 

In grand salute to the men in blue, 

Who, firm as they, stood staunch and true. 



17 



TWO ENCAMPMENTS. 

In the home of the clouds, where nature dies, 
From the summits of earth to touch the skies, 
And feel once more the phalanx unbroken. 
Shoulder to shoulder, with no word spoken, 
They may join our ranks who march no more, 
For a moment of time from eternity's shore, 
And the pledge that was sealed with the clasp of death 
Shall be sworn again with the living breath, 

While we hear in the winds the rustle of wings, 
That a message from their encampment brings 
To ours: that the battle is scarcely won, 
And the pledges redeemed of '61, 
For human rights, and justice true, 
To the noble army of boys in blue; 
For the sorrows of War have no surcease, 
Save in justice only: " Let us have peace." 





FOR THE BLUE ANDlTHE;GRAY.* 



*In a shallow cut on the Nashville, Chattanooga and St. 
Louis Railway, between Altoona and Kenesaw Mountains, is 
the grave of an unlnown soldier. The skeleton was discovered 
buried there some years after the war. It was impossible to 
determine whether he had been a Union or a Confederate sol- 
dier. The remains were rebmied by the railway section hands 
close beside the track, and a tablet placed by the grave con- 
taining the words, "Unknown Soldier." 

It will be remembered that it was from Altoona to Kenesaw 
Mountains that General Hooker flashed the signal to General 
Corse, ''Hold the fort, for we are coming," on which was based 
the well-known hj'mn of that name. 

The above lines were suggested to the author, who visited 
the grave on a recent trip to the south. 



MEMORIAL. 

SLEEPING the sleep that knows no awaking, 
Soldier unknown: what matters it now ? 
Dumb is reveille when sunrise is breaking, 

Sleeping alone on Kenesaw's brow 
From whence flashed the signal to Altoona's captain, 
" Hold to the fort, for I am coming now." 

Sleeping the sleep of peace, weary soldier, 
In storm or in sunshine, in frost or the dew, 

Unknown of name or unknown of army, 
Whether " blue " or the " gray," God knows he was true, 

And He gave him welcome to bivouac celestial, 

In the fort that he holds for the " gray and the blue." 



19 



20 FOR THE BLUE AND THE GRAY. 

Undisturbed in his sleep on the highway of traffic, 
By the side of the rail that binds us anew, 

The north and the south in bond of new union, 
Where all are united and loyal and true, 

And as they pass by him, the north'ron or south'ron 
Drop a tear for the unknown, the " gray or the " blue." 

No colors wave o'er him; no watchman on duty, 
Guarding the spot where he sleeps in the clay, 

Save only the tribute of flowers in the springtime, 
From Kenesaw wafted by night and by day 

On soft southern winds: the signal God's sending 
From the fort that He holds for the " blue and the gray." 





JW 



ONE HUNDRED YEARS. 
1776-1876. 

/TlVE retrospect a regal dower, 
VJ Vouchsafed in conflict's crucial hour, 
On field or forum where were cast 
The lines that bind us to the past, 

When souls of men bade men to stand 
And offer lives for native land, 
For Liberty, and hearthstone shrine — 
Man's right, decreed by Will divine. 

New stars are born of golden hue, 
Intwined in folds red, white and blue; 
A banner fills Aurora's skies, 
The dawn of hope to waiting" eyes ; 

Then comes a code that crowns a race, 
And Saxon foes meet face to face, 
At Lexington, on Bunker Hill. 
Late Vassals, now are Kings at will. 

Through jungles stained with loyal blood, 
O'er Delaware's ice-gorging flood, 
From hills of Maine to placid James, 
The scroll is bright with valiant names. 

" A yeoman race ! a yeoman King ! 
A Washington !" doth welkin ring. 
With loud huzzas; through joys and tears, 
The echoes fill a hundred years. 



21 




-;- •:■:;{ . 7 



LOVE AND THE ROSE LEAVES. 



CTT FRAGRANCE I, from Araby, 
J -A. From vales of Cashmere captured, 
From Occident, from Orient, 
An atmosphere enraptured. 
With odors sweet, 
I come to greet, 
Thy senses all caressing; 
And, ravishing with pleasures meet, 
I bring to thee a blessing. 

My prison walls without portray, 
By Art's deft hand reflected,— 
Rich roses rare, and blossoms fair, 
In colors all perfected; 
. And yet, behold, 
Lifeless and cold, 
Of rose flowers but a seeming 

While I exhale, e'en from the mold, 
The essence of their dreaming. 



22 



LOVE AND THE ROSE LEAVES. 2) 

And I, rose soul, live evermore 

With True Love, my handmaiden. 
When sorely pressed, then I the more 
Give perfume richly laden. 
True Love and I 
Can never die: 
Death proves but our perfection; 

And we do give nor plaint nor sigh 
When crushed, — but fond affection. 

I come, — the spirit of the flowers, — 

Intangible, yet token 
Of hope, and faith, and vows that pass 
Through shades of death unbroken; 
All, thee I bring, 
On fragrant wing, 
Love, love to thee confessing; 

May all thy life perennial spring 
Be ever, is my blessing. 




24 THE SHEEP ON THE COAST. 



THE SHEEP ON THE COAST. 

TTTHE winds blow fierce from the hills to the sea: 
J- But the rocks, like a fortress, shall keep 
The wrath of the storm from the flock on the shore; 
For the Master He loveth His sheep; 

And they tranquilly rest in love and sweet peace, 
And the lambs shall lie down and sleep; 

For the storm by the Shepherd is tempered for them, 
For the Master He loveth His sheep. 

O weary, heartbroken, and storm-beaten soul, 
There's a shelter for all who will seek, 

And He heareth thy cry,— a hope unexpressed. 
Oh! the Master He loveth His sheep. 

The Rock that doth break the wrath of the sea, 
And the Voice that doth quiet the deep, 

Shall guard thee, and guide to a haven of rest. 
Oh! the Master He loveth His sheep. 



26 MY MOTHER. 



MY MOTHER. 

TT7HEY tell me she is dead. That sainted face in life, 
-*- More saintly still in death, 

Changed only by a breath ; 
But she my mother still. My soul, in strife 

With knowledge infinite 

And reason most finite, 
Doth grope to know. The dead to us are real; 

For, since I see her not, 

Her face is ne'er forgot; 
And, in my soul, I know, and knowing, feel 

My mother's presence still: 

And so my finite will, 
By reason throned, by faith is mastered well. 

Though she dead to nature be, 

Alas ! she is not dead to me. 
My beloved mother, who loved me, doth dwell 

Yet with me, sainted soul, 

Until the veil aside shall roll. 
Her precepts, trusting God, henceforth shall ever be 

My guide; and, by them led, 

When others call me dead, 
Then will she welcome me to God's eternity. 





CELLSTIA. 

TTTO realms of love away, away, 
JL As radiant dawn to radiant day. 
Than Ariadne fair, I ween, 
Celestia rules a lovlier queen. 

Eternal there a crown she wears; 
Lo ! in her hand a scepter hears. 
A goddess pure, of love divine- 
All love bears tribute to her shrine ; 

And naught but joy beams from her eyes, 
To lure e'en Love from Paradise. 
In all the realms of Love ere this 
None save Celestia's love is bliss. 




27 



28 THE BOON OF A BETTER LIFE. 

THE BOON OF A BETTER LIFE. 

<Tf YE ! bring sweet lillies, r the pure white lillies, 
yl And wreath the cross; for it is meet 
To celebrate the new-born life 

With evergreens and blossoms sweet, — 
Fit emblem of the life to be 
Henceforth for you, from bonds now free, 
Who take the cross on bended knee. 

"I baptise you in the name of the Father and Son;" 

As thus He commanded, so hath it been done ; 

And I heard the voice of the pastor in prayer; 

And 1 saw life's autumn and spring were there; 
And in evergreen words that will never decay, 
I read there is "joy in heaven to-day." 
While a still, small voice thus seemed to say: 

" I will grant you the boon that you ask at my feet, 
With the love of a child, so tender and sweet, 
* That will shine in your lives with joys that are blent 
With the holiest love of the great firmament. 

" 1 will give you a peace and purity bright 
That will ever be with you, a beacon of light, 
That others beholding, so faithful and true, 
The path thou'rt pursuing they fain will pursue. 

" 1 will give you a faith that from heaven is sent 
To glow in the heart of the bowed penitent — 
A faith that is strong, and is broad and deep, 
That in trials will keep you; yea, ever will keep. 



THE BOON OF A BETTER LIFE. 



29 



" I will fill you with joys that are like honey-dew, 

That, lasting forever, yet ever are new; 

And the water of life, for a heritage ever, 

I will give unto you that you thirst again never. 

" I will give you a shield and a buckler and sword 
That will keep you forever, — the sword of my word, 
That will cheer you in age and guard you in youth; 
'Tis the shield of devotion and buckler of truth. 

" At last through the valley will I bring you to rest, 
In the homes I have for you prepared with the blest; 
And none shall be lost that to me have been given, 
But all shall be with me in the kingdom of heaven." 





GIVE A LIFT TO MORTALS. 

IF you do no shirkin' on the road you travel day by day, 
Of duty to your fellow-men you meet along the way 
With burdens, but help bear them, you'll the great command 
obey, — 
That makes heaven every day. 

You may know but very little 'bout creeds or any schism; 

An', may be, can't repeat the long or shorter catechism; 

But, when you wipe a tear away, you've found the greatest ism, 

And its heaven every day. 
The big charity cotillon — if you ain't asked to lead it, 
An' your name for charity ain't where the world will read it, 
Just help down in the subsoil, where God's poor mostly need it, — 

You'll bring heaven every day. 

Don't worry 'cause you can't build a school or seminary, 
Or telescopes, or hospitals, or give a dispensary; 
Just be content with doin' now the small and ordinary; 
For that is heaven every day. 



30 



GIVE A LIFT TO MORTALS. 3l 

Just a flower, a rose or lily, has saved a human hein', 

An' a song or gentle music sent temptation backward fleein' 

If you only do the mites of good, I know the Lord's agreein', 

It makes heaven every day. 
If a child of want an' sorrow is wearyin' an' weepin', 
An' in the dregs of sin an' shame all better nature steepin', 
An' you lend a hand to help them, you're the best command- 
ment keepin' 

That is heaven right away. 

So among the human stubble you .can do His will a gleanin',— 
Castin' not the gathered sheaves where, only, light is gleamin',— 
An' help the fallen raise their eyes where love divine is beamin'; 
And that is heaven every day. 

When you give a lift to mortals who are walkin' in the shadder 
Of a sorrow, and you lighten it an' make their hearts beat gladder, 
You will be one round up higher, up higher on God's ladder, 
Toward His heaven every day. 






W. 




NATURE'S VOICES. 



LESSONS all about me ! voices of the truth ! 
Ever are they speaking, fresh and bright as youth ; 

Written in the valleys, on the hills in verdure dress'd; 
Carved in the deep Azoic, — upon the mountain crest; 

Floating" in the sunbeam, speaking in the flowers, 
In silence on the desert, in Oriental bowers. 

1 read them in the woodland, in forests deep and old ; 
There, with the great Creator, I sweet communion hold. 

By the voice of running water, in the rivulet and brook, 
In the placid lake and torrent, — through all to Him I look. 

He tells me in the mountain of His great power and might; 
He gave me in the firmament a book to read by night. 

In the blossom by the brooklet and frail nest just above, 
He teaches me fidelity and sweet and tender love. 



32 



NATURE'S VOICES. 



33 



1 see Him in the violet, I hear Him in the breeze; 

In thunder tone He speaks to me in roar of mighty seas. 

Some hear him in the cloister, I listen on the plain; 
Some listen in the chancel, I hear Him on the main; 

Some in the congregation of people, and but there, 
Do hear him, but 1 hear him where echo speaks in air; 

In the crystal and the cocoon, in the lignite and the leaf, 
I read a revelation, and in reason my belief. 

By the pulse that throbs within me, by the thought that's born of light, 
By the power I feel that wins me, by the love that brings delight, — 

By these lessons all I know Him, and by no less knoweth He 
All creatures, — though below Him, — and thus He knoweth me. 

And as the cloud or brooklet, to paths they once have trod, 
Return no more forever, so end our lives with God. 





SHERMAN AND PORTER MEMORIAL* 

*Read at a joint Memorial held in the Auditorium, Chicago, March ist, 1891. 

BRAVE soldiers born of Freedom's cause, tried sailors of the 
deep, 

Bear emblems of your sorrow, and warrior's honor keep ! 
Bring tributes of devotion, where, with reverential tread, 
A nation comes uncovered, in the presence of her dead. 
Float low the glorious banner, and the union jack o'er waves, 

For them who sleep where Fame's videttes keep vigil 
o'er their graves, — 

For Sherman brave on native land, and Porter on the tide; 
In peace and war, in life and death, twin patriots side by side. 

The flag their valor glory gave, at half-mast shall it rest! 
A signal from the mortal code, to immortals on the crest 
Of ramparts in the Eternal, that other patriot souls 
Have been summoned, and have answered to God's great muster- 
rolls. 

The farewell volley in the air, a knell within our breasts 
Re-echoes from their honored graves, where all that's mortal 

rests, 
And wakes the memory of the day, that starts the silent tears, 
And we battle and we bivouac in the record of the years— 



34 



SHERMAN AND PORTER MEMORIAL. 35 

When clouds were lowering o'er the land and darkness on the 

deep; 
And Lincoln's soul was agonized; and armies dared not sleep, 
From Donelson and Shiloh to Atlanta's gauntlet run, 
And Union flag and Union jack were defying Fisher's gun; 

When the waters of the rivers were fettered by the hand 

Of Mars, in strength of earth and steel, from James to Rio 

Grande, 
With batteries masked and hidden, as by an Arctic night. 
They came with souls in armored mail, of God's eternal right, — 

Came as the whirlwind cometh from the open hand of God, 
And broken shakles marked the path where mighty Freedom 

trod. 
Then altars there were builded, and the sacrifice was laid, 
For the Nation's great dishonor, that by fire and sword was paid. 

On the shores of peaceful waters their prowess had released, 
And giv'n to sea and Freedom with their heritage increased, 
1 hey have laid their bodies down; their souls have parried fears, 
And are marching to the minstrelsy of God's eternal spheres. 

Then may all honored heroes' graves become the holy grail 
Of a people reunited, and all loyalty prevail 
In the name of hallowed peace, a tribute to the just, 
Whose country's sword and honor were safest in their trust; 

In peace or war true patriots, who spurned pretense, and gave 
To all accord most justly, whether titled prince or slave, 
Their whole lives teaching duty, as example only can, 
That the loyal must be first of all a true American. 



36 SHERMAN AND PORTER MEMORIAL— OUR COUNTRY AND FLAG. 

The galaxy of stars they sealed for union, law and land, 
In crimson of fidelity and white of virtue's band, 
Shall nevermore be tarnished; but high o'er school and home 
Shall ever float the signal flag of Freedom's sacred dome. 

Ho! comrades and companions, and League of Tennessee, 
Grand Sons of Revolution and Shipmates of the Sea, 
Bring incense, all true patriots, all sons of loyal sires, 
All maidens fair, all women true, and light the altar fires — 

Of deep devotion to the flag, and fealty here renew, 
By open graves of loyal men who to that flag were true 
That with our honor and our lives, come weal or bitter woes, 
We'll stand a wall of strong defense 'gainst seen or unseen foes. 

In presence of the immortals, they are marching through the 

gate, 
Where Lincoln, Grant and Farragut and Logan legions wait; 
With heaven's sweet reveille their ranks are opening wide 
To welcome Sherman, Porter there, true patriots side by side. 



OUR COUNTRY AND FLAG. 

EACH, with the other, unsullied, unbroken, 
Reflecting the deeds that have brought her renown, 
Mankind's inspiration, of Freedom the token; 
Her yeomanry Kings, each wearing a crown. 




w 



FORGIVE, FORGET. 

HEN my weary days are past, 
And sleep doth end my labors, 
And joy and fears are o'er at last, 
My record with my neighbors — 
May it not be a granite shaft, 

Or epitaph's vain glory; 
But, in their minds and hearts engraft, 
This humble, simple story : 



" He lived for those he loved always, 

He made his own their sorrows; 
He filled love's chalice for to-days, 

And hope raised for to-morrows. 
He craves no tears, no vain regret, 

No tribute, friends and brothers, 
But only this, forgive, forget, 

His faults as he all others." 



37 




VIOLETS AND BLUE EYES. 

ON the crest of Uncompaghre, 
Where the skies are bright and blue, 
plucked these wild wood violets, 
And send them, dear, to you. 
When I gazed upon their beauty — 
That was stolen from your eyes, — 

Then wantonly I plucked them, 
And return to you the prize. 

Then 1 sought — in vain — to capture 

The skies deep-stolen hue, 
To return to its possessor 

Those eyes, your eyes, so blue. 
But the glorious golden precept 

Of how " better 'tis to give 
Than receive" then dawned upon me, 

And I prayed the flowers might live. 

For there's liquid blue and beauty, 

In the depths of those blue eyes, 
For all the flowers of springtime, 

For all the vernal skies, 
Which rob them not, but borrow, 

And the giving doth renew 
Those liquid orbs of beauty, 

Those eyes, your eyes, of blue. 



38 




ONLY A LIFE. 

Only a ray in darkness, 
Only a fleeting breath, 

Only a kiss and parting, 
Only from life to death. 

Only a weary waiting, 
Only unknown to know, 

Only desire and denial, 
Only to come and go. 

Only a pain and patience, 
Only an ebbing tide, 

Only a gleam of wisdom, 
Only a cause untried, 



Only a call of waking, 
Only a sigh to sleep, 

Only a tear, love's anguish 
Over a grave may weep. 

Only a name forgotten, 
Only a hope at best, 

Only a woe that's buried, 
Only a soul at rest. 



39 



40 THE ASSAYS THERE WILL ALL BE TRUE. 

THE ASSAYS THERE WILL ALL BE TRUE. 

TlM Leonard stood-his pick and spade 
(5/ With poncho tied together — 
Beside the grave where now is laid, 

From the world he could not weather, 
His pard; and life was cold and drear 

In the camp of Twilight Canon, 
For he was dead that for ten "year" 

Had been his boon companion. 

The trail seemed lonely now to climb, 

The drills and anvils weighty; 
He felt that age was marking time 

Upon his brow at eighty; 
Now bleaker looked his prospect hole 

Than curtains dark of Kedar, 
And, like the wail of a tortured soul, 

The winds sighed in the cedar. 

At last he spoke as though in prayer, 

Or sadness broken hearted, 
And these the words he uttered there, 

Addressed to the departed: 
" Old pard, you're gone, and I'm alone: 

But, when the winds are sighin', 
I seem to hear the parting tone 

I heard when you were dyin'. 

" The waters down the canons pour, 
Like spirits vengeance wreakin', 

And in the rattlin' thunder's roar, 
I think I hear you speakin' ; 




Jim Leonard stood— his pick and spade 
With poncho tied together. 



42 THE ASSAYS THERE WILL ALL BE TRUE. 

And when at night I hear the slide, 
And trees and boulders fallin', 

I'm thinkin', pard, you're by my side 
Or for me you are callin'. 

"But now I'm gettin' tired of life, 

It grows more sad and weary; 
The days are full of toil and strife, 

The silent nights are dreary; 
And, pard, I soon will climb the trial 

That starts where peaks are endin' 
And turnouts there we'll never hail, 

We meet no packs descendin' 

"We'll climb the mountain sides no more, 

By night and day prospectin' ; 
We'll file a claim for t'other shore, 

And wait the ressurectin' ; 
An', if we never panned out here 

What we have been expectin', 
We'll make our trail a title clear 

To callin' and electin'. 

"My shift will soon be over, pard; 

I'll soon be done a stopin' : 
We'll all be under cover, pard, 

Where drifts are never slopin'; 
The levels all are on one base, 

No upper shifts a blastin'; 
The tunnels all meet in one place, 

The chamber's everlastin' 




The trail seemed lonely now to climb. 




:S 




" My shift will soon be over, pard; 

I'll soon be done a stopin'; 
We'll all be under cover, pard, 

Where drifts are never slopin'." 



THE ASSAYS THERE WILL ALL BE TRUE. 45 



"The assays there will all be true, 

Accordin' to our sample; 
And when the mill runs are all through, 

They'll show us this example: 
That if we work the jig below 

By 'saltin" and deceivin', 
That up there, pard, there is no show 

To cover and get even. 

"And when the sortin's all been done, 

And ready for the grindin', 
I trust old pard, 'high number one,' 

They'll most of us be findin' 
For concentration methods, pard, 

They've never up there boasted; 
But down the chute low grade and hard 

Is crushed and dumped and roasted. 

"But, pard, if we have rustled square, 

And never practiced jumpin' 
The claims wherein we had no share, 

We needn't fear the dumpin' ; 
For 1 believe that who has made 

The mountain has no failin's, 
And he can find a better trade 

Than burning up the tailin 's. ' ' 




A BIRTHDAY GREETING 

TO MY WIFE WITH A PRESENT OF JEWELS. 

ONE thousand leagues afar from thee, 
My Love, from thee,— my love, from thee,- 
On this thy natal day to be, 
My Love, — so far away to he! 
And yet my love insatiate 
Those leagues doth all annihilate, 
And I'm with thee, 
My love, with thee. 

My heart sits prison breaks, My Love ; 
My love all distance scorns, my Love, — 

And far away it flies to thee — 

It flies away with thee to be; 
And on its wings this token bears, 
And by its purity, Love, swears 

For thee, — for thee, 

Love, — swears for thee. 



46 



A BIRTHDAY GREETING. 47 

And wear it, Love, where it may feel 

Thy warm blood pulse with each heart-beat, 
And back 'twill give with that appeal, 
And, from its jewel depths, reveal 

The love I'd fain lay at thy feet. 

And from those sparkling depths shall rise, 

Responsive to thy glances sweet, 
Ecstatic bliss! love's sweet surprise, 
That oft I've read in thine own eyes 

When thine and mine in rapture meet. 

So may our love full rounded be, — 

All mine! all thine! — and without end, 
Or ebb, or flow, but ever free 
In one full realm of ecstacy 

And joy that love alone can blend. 

And as these jewels brighter glow 

In darkest chambers, so I pray 
Our love may sweeter, stronger grow, 
Should fate a shadow o'er us throw, 

Till shadows end in endless day. 

And so, my Love, though far from thee, 

So far from thee, 
This day, I pray thou'lt happy be, 

Most happy be; 
For greeting, Love, I send to thee, — 

Love's greeting unto thee, — 
To thee. 



48 



A BIRTHDAY GREETING. 

And may thy life with many days 
And years of joy full measured be, 

With loving friends to cheer always, 
And sorrow's tears be far from thee. 

And 1 would build within thy breast 
An altar pure, love's holy shrine; 

Thy husband's love should be its crest, 
With fond devotion truly thine. 

And so its fires should brightly burn, 
Enkindled by thy loving heart; 

And from all else he'd ever turn 
To thee, nor from thee ever part. 

Thy children's happy hours should be 
The daily incense offered there, 

That, in their love's simplicity, 

Thou shouldst but read a daily prayer. 

May loving kindness be thy star 
To guide thy life,— and mine and ours, 

In all life's paths, so near, so far, 
Shall each and all have happy hours. 





GOD CIPHERS ME AN' YOU. 

TTTHAR ain't no use o' talkin', boys, 
-A- Thar's suthin' downright square 
In how the laborin' fellers do 

When sorro' plows her share 
Into the subsile ov the heart 

All racked with grief an' care. 

An' boys, the way to jedge ov men 
Is by works, and not by creed; 

For thar's suthin' square about 'em 
Who bind the hearts that bleed, 

An' fer widows and fer orphans 
Provide in time ov need. 

An' jist one month gone yistirday, 

It was that Reuben said 
To me, as I was standin' thar 

Beside his dyin' bed, 
That, ef his time had come, he knew 

His children would be fed. 

An', while I held his hand in mine, 

I heerd him faintly say, 
That blessin's would be theirn, he knew, 

Whose creed was more than pray; 
An' then he said, "God bless the—" 

But he had passed away. 



49 



50 



GOD CIPHERS ME AN' YOU. 



An', boys, the pledge they made to him, 

With her they all hev kept — 
An' more; fer through the fever's fire 

They rested not nor slept; 
An' when't was vain, they with us all 

Thar tears ov sorro' wept. 

An', when her heart was breakin' 
With the comin' home to dwell 

Where the embers all was ashes 
On the hearth, an' where the knell 

Of emptiness was sadder 
Than the tollin' ov the bell 




When the shadder ov the valley 

Was black with clouds ov woe, 
They come with oil an' spik'nard, 

An', like colorin' ov the bow, 
They raised Hope's gleamin' banner, 

With its sweet an' radiant glow. 

So, then, I say, to jedge ov men, 
If you would jedge 'em true, 

Is not so much by what they say 
As by the deeds they do ; 

An' I jist reckon, on this plan, 
God ciphers me an' you. 



THE TEMPERANCE MILLENNIUM. 5l 



THE TEMPERANCE MILLENNIUM. 



W 



'HE millennium door is swingin', 
'X N An' the better is gettin' the lead 
Ov the bad, an' the men are beginnin' 

To show signs ov temperance feed; 
An' men unto men are like brothers, 

Fer the Paradise Bird is their guest, 
An' the children an' wives an' mothers 

Are prayin' they'll all be blest. 

P'r'aps some ov 'em now will get dresses 

Who fer years but rags hev wore, 
With huggin's an' lovin' caresses 

Where was growlin's an' kickin's before; 
An' some little ones will find fathers, 

An' fathers lost children will find 
Revealed in the tears that are fallin' 

Like scales droppin' off'n the blind. 

I reck'n that now thar'll be prayin', 

Where thar hasn't been prayin' fer years; 
Nor wantin' be found in the weighin' 

Nor pillows all soakin' with tears; 
An' they'll eat the bread ov love's leav'n 

Who've been breakin' the crusts ov woe, 
That'll be like a foretaste ov heaven 

Beginnin' on earth below; 



52 THE TEMPERANCE MILLENNIUM. 

An' manhood that long has been layin' 

Chained down in the ruinin' bowl, 
Will put on the weapons fer slayin' 

The slayer ov body an' soul. 
An' hearts that rejoice, I'm knowin', 

Are many an' pure an' true, 
Baptized in the waters that's flowin' 

From the river ov life fer you. 

An' the midnight watchin' an' weepin' 

In trouble an' want an' shame, 
Will be changed fer dreamin' an' sleepin' 

By the hearth with a hallowed name; 
In the home where sorrow's been sittin' 

Like a wolf fer many a day, 
Will the Paradise Bird be flittin', 

An' buildin' her nest to stay. 

Then the children will lisp a blessin', 

An' the wimmin will weep no more 
For the days that were sad an' distressin' 

Are passin' fer joys in store, 
While they pray fer the Guardi'n Angels 

To be with 'em, an' keep 'em alway 
In the path where the wayside is plenty, 

An' the end is a golden day. 




CRIPPLE TIM AND THE 
CHARITY BALL. 

' JT[WAS the eve of a brilliant charity 

*■ ball; 
The streets were gay, and the gorgeous hall 
Was a blaze of glory,— and the spirit of all 
Was for " charity's sake." 
For often as ye to the least of these do, 

ye do unto Me. 

By a cafe window "Cripple Tim" stood 
Eagerly gazing through at the food, 
Unnoticed by all on the busy street. 
He looked on plenty, with nothing to eat 
Then he turned and shouted, "Shines for all; 
Shine 'em up free for the charity ball." 



"Has the world lost pity?" a still voice speaks 
And tears course down over Tim's pale cheeks 
To lips that in days gone by had prayed 
"Forgive us; and give us our daily bread," — 
Mocking words crushed out in the strife, 
Remembered no more in his struggle for life. 



53 



54 CRIPPLE TIM AND THE CHARITY BALL. 

Then, weary and sick, ragged and cold, 

"Cripple Tim" climbed to his attic old, 

And found, in tears 

Only orphans weep, 
The balm for fears 
And hunger, — sleep. 

In a fever's dream he beheld a star 
From the east come guiding a glittering car 
To his attic old, — with a beatiful maid 
In dazzling spendors rich arrayed. 
In her hands she carried a loaf and bowl; 
Her lips and eyes brought food for the soul, 
Yielding a harvest of multiplied love. 
"Good will on earth" lays treasures above; 

Who gives shall receive, 
In a double fold, 

Heart treasures in sheaves 
That are richer than gold. 

Then he murmured low: "Now, boys, let's all 
Rub shines free gratis for the charity ball." 
The mother of love spread out her wings, 
And a song unheard the Dark Angel sings: 
With its dying note the life cord broke; 
He parted from men, but with God awoke. 

His box and brush 
Will know him no more : 

"Cripple Tim" spoke 
From the other shore. 



CRIPPLE TIM AND THE CHARITY BALL. 55 

The dark-winged angel had kissed his brow; 
With the mother of love he resteth now ; 
He whispered the words, in passing to sleep, 
"I know them who love me,— they feed my 
sheep." 

Sweet music swelled from the banquet hall, 
And life and love heard the Master's call. 
The beautiful maid and the cavalier 
In charity gave, the world to cheer. 
There is gold enough for all. The world 
Most needs the banner of love unfurled 

In the heart of man, — 

The Christ-like plan. 



< 





LOVE'S FETTERS. 



TO A FRIEND. 



TT7HERE may be others wish thee well, 
-*- Or those who love thee fonder, 
In summer fair, or wintry days; 

But none who stay or wander 
Give tribute truer, worthy praise. 

Rejoice 1 in your pleasure, 
Your happiness my prayer always, 

From measure unto measure. 
Your wish the shrine of loving" hearts 

Filled with thy smile — a blessing 
Replete, and full in every part, 

Its silence but confessing 
E'en all that love can give or take. 

Seek not a pledge or hostage ; 
Dissolve all bond or truce, and make 

Life one harmonious, rhythmic lay, 
Embowered in sweetest roses 

Of true affection's lasting" day; 
Nor end when life's dream closes. 



56 



AMERICA, HOME LAND. 57 

AMERICA, HOME LAND. 



/ I j E are standing" in the glory of a galaxy of stars, 
^M, On a field of blue emblazoned by the gleaming 
Of camp fires that were lighted for freedom's holy wars, 
That the harvest of the years hath brought, redeeming. 

And we shout a loud hosanna to America, home land, 

That shall echo to the end of all creation, 
For our country reunited and redeemed to ever stand, 

For God and man, a freeman's happy Nation. 

From the embers slowly dying in the ashes of the past, 

Behold a glow immortal is upspringing, 
In the banner, crimson dyed with the blood of loyal men, 

Whose praises all the ages chord in singing. 

Let the hills that flashed the code, and lagoons that answered 
back, 

In accord with hill and prairie sing the story; 
Let the babe and mother sing, the sire and grandsire sing, 

And emancipated hosts proclaim the glory. 

For the living brave who bear their country's wounds and 
scars, — 

All honor and all glory we award them; 
For the loyal brave who sleep in the battle-grave of wars, — 

Immortelles, and flowers, and tears to-day accord them. 

And all shout a loud hosanna to America, home land, 

That shall echo to the end of all creation, 
For our country reunited and redeemed to ever stand, 

For God and man, a freeman's happy Nation. 



58 PALMER LAKE, COLORADO. 



PALMER LAKE COLORADO. 

C 7T GEM upon the crest she lies, 
yl Where pillared spires the ranges break, 
Reflecting stars in noonday skies, 
The summit's jewel, Palmer Lake. 

Killarney's and Geneva's shores 
No thrill so pure can e'er awake; 

Here Freedom breaks all prison doors, 
And feasts the soul at Palmer Lake. 

No legend sad thy beauty mars, 
Of clanking chains or feudal hate; 

But from thy depths stars glance to stars 
Like kisses thrown from Palmer Lake. 

Mount of the Holy Cross, and peak, 
Thy valiant guardians, stand, and break 

The Storm King's wrath, that here shall wreak 
Not one coarse breath, sweet Palmer Lake. 

Thy waters, clear as pure Siloam, 
For mirror would a goddess take; 

And Cupid on thy shores his home, 
With Love, would choose, sweet Palmer Lake. 




FIDELITY. 



May it be so! 

And well, 
In this deep woe 

To dwell. 

My heart be wrung, 

And break 
Of love that sprung 

To wake — 

Upon the morn 

Of hate— 
The wild, love-born, 

Fierce hate. 



1 can but pray 

"Tis well;" 
I ne'er can say 

"Farwell." 

My heart will cling- 
To thee; 

My love will spring- 
To be — 



59 



6C FIDELITY— EVANGELINE. 

Thine own e'ermore 
Then erst, 

Thy passion o'er, 
To burst, — 

As doth the rose, 
When prest, 

Its sweet disclose; 
Then blest — 

I'll deem my fate 
To live, 

Love for thy hate 
To give. 



EVANGELINE. 



gHE comes on the wings of gladness, 
The fruition of hope's delight, 
Like breaking of joy upon sadness, 
Like the dawn to an Arctic night ; 
Like dew to the thirsting desert, 
Like water to fountains dry, 
Like love to love responding, 
With love that can never die. 




THE GOD OF GOLD. 

"It is easier for a camel to go through the 

eye of a needle, than for a rich 

man to enter into the 

kingdom of God." 

/TUT them down, hoard your gold, 
VJ Till your hearts' knell be tolled, 
Till your souls have been sold 
To your god, godless gold. 



Cut them down, gold to gain, 
Though the tears fall like rain, 
And you multiply pain 

By your scepter of gold- 



Men whom the morning's ray 
Drives like beasts of prey 
Down to their dens away, 
Deep in the earth, 

To toil like the galley slave, 
In vain their last rest to save 
From scorn in pauper's grave,- 
Hoarding your gold. 



Cut them down on the rail; 
Let there be no avail 
In the cry or the wail 

Of want in their homes; 



61 



62 THE GOD OF GOLD. 

Whom fear never knew, 
By day and night true, 
Though they brave death for you, 
Who worship but gold. 

Cut them down at the bench, 
At the forge, in the trench, 
On the farm; turn the wrench, 
To gather more gold. 

Cut them down yet again 
Till you make tramps of men, 
And thieves of tramps, when 
You worship but gold. 

Heed not the imploring look, 
Fear not the warning book; 
God's poor, whom he ne'er forsook, 
Grind to get gold. 

Spare none, young or old; 
Till your hearts fill with mold, 
For your souls have been sold 
To your god, godless gold. 



LOVE'S DESPAIR— THE SOLDIER. 63 

LOVES DESPAIR. 

"TS AVE you felt the quakings, 
JL/ The weary heart achings, 
Of love that is spurned with bitterest scorn; 

And your faith but discloses, 

'Neath the smiles and the roses, 
Deception there forging a life-piercing thorn ? 

Have you drunk from loves chalice 

Woe, misery, and malice, 
And Fidelity summoned no angel to warn? 

Has your soul, like a seabird 

When only woe's shriek is heard, 
Been storm tossed from wave crest to wave crest 

Of woe, through a sea trough of gloom, 
Back to the caverns of memory's wild unrest, 

Where stalks but the specter of doom, 
And the heart beats the knell of hope in its breaking, 

Breaking and sinking to the lost spirits' lair, 
Till you prayed for the sleep that knows no awaking, 

That only is solace for souls in despair? 



THE SOLDIER. 

/TIVE honor to all to whom it is due, 
\-A Who duty or death never parried; 
But honor the soldier anew and anew 
Whose shoulder the bayonet carried. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

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